


nightswimming

by metaleaterz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Funeral, M/M, Mentions of Death, Post-Break Up, Sad, Sirius is in Azkaban, dead jily, peter is presumed dead, post 31st october 1981, post major character death, remus' speech at the funeral, snape is.....there, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-10-01 22:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaleaterz/pseuds/metaleaterz
Summary: He clears his throat.“Hello,” he begins. Solid start. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Remus Lupin. I'm - I was one of James and Lily’s best friends. There isn’t much I can tell you about them that you don’t already know, so I'll keep this as short as I can.”-Remus gives the eulogy at James and Lily's wedding.





	nightswimming

**Author's Note:**

> jamie asked me to write this. i did my best. the photograph mentioned is a reference to my other story, 'call me a friend'. i do consider this part of the canon.
> 
> the title is a song by r.e.m. please check it out if you'd like to. it's one of my all time favorites and i think it applies to this.
> 
> thank you for reading. thank you for the support. comments and kudos are always, always, always appreciated. love you xxx
> 
> twitter - gryfffsirius  
instagram - emmakmarie  
tumblr - siriusorioff

November isn’t a particularly pleasant month. Remus has never been one to wax poetic about the differently hued autumn leaves or the crispness of the air or how it means they’re one month closer to winter; autumn is better than summer, but it isn’t anything special, in his opinion. 

November now, however, might be classified as the worst month of the year. 

It's the eleventh. Remus has never had to organize anything like this before, he’s never had to organize anything like this by _himself_, he’s never had to do it while trying to piece together the fragments of the life he had less than two weeks ago, but here he is. Silent and stiff and standing at a podium expected to speak. 

He clears his throat. 

“Hello,” he begins. Solid start. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Remus Lupin. I'm - I _was_ one of James and Lily’s best friends. There isn’t much I can tell you about them that you don’t already know, so I'll keep this as short as I can.” 

Remus isn’t sure if he’s supposed to talk for longer. He doesn’t particularly want to. He's practiced his speech probably a million times in the mirror since he’d written it. It's nothing compared to what James would’ve been able to do if the tables were turned, but he’s managed to scrape together something acceptable, he thinks. 

It doesn’t matter what everyone listening thinks about it. It matters that if Lily and James were watching they’d be okay with it. It matters that if Harry remembers this – and Remus is sure he won’t - he’d be happy with what Remus has to say. 

He forgets where to go next for a moment. There’s too long of a pause, then Remus remembers that he has a paper telling him what to say sitting on the podium in front of him. 

The words come out just as he practiced them. “I met James Potter on the Hogwarts Express when we were eleven. We were Sorted into Gryffindor together, along with Peter Pettigrew and – and we became fast friends. He was brilliant. He was kind. He was terrible at maths. He had no concept of what the Muggle world was like, but he was fascinated with everything new he learned. The only time his hair wasn’t sticking up in all directions was immediately after it was cut and when he’d taken a shower. One time he slicked it back with Sleekeazy’s for the Christmas dance in our fourth year and I didn’t recognize him for a minute. Siriu – we stuck his head in the shower before we’d let him leave the dorm because he didn’t look like himself. He was a brilliant Quidditch player. He had been scouted to play professionally but he turned down all his offers because he thought...” Remus pauses. “He thought that the Order needed him more,” he continues ruefully. 

Remus can’t look at Dumbledore, sitting calmly in the third row like there’s nothing fundamentally _wrong_ about this. Like a baby didn’t just lose his parents, like Peter didn’t just lose his life, like Remus didn’t just lose his whole world. James and Lily should’ve been celebrating their anniversary that night, but they were stuck inside that house because of some bullshit prophecy Dumbledore had told them about, because of their involvement in a group that Dumbledore had founded, because of their stupid bravery based off of their formative years being spent at a school that Dumbledore had run. 

Remus doesn’t believe in fate. He never has. Divination has always been a waste of time to him. He doesn’t believe that the so-called prophecy had meant anything at all, and he wants to scream at everyone who put stock in the string of words that tore apart everything and everyone who meant anything to him. 

He may be grieving and broken and feeling like the wolf is ripping its way out of him with every heartbeat as he stands here, but Remus, more than anything, is angry. 

This wouldn’t have happened if the wizarding community didn’t believe in stupid shit like prophecies. This wouldn’t have happened if the prophecy hadn’t been overheard and delivered into the hands of Voldemort. This wouldn’t have happened if Dumbledore hadn’t let James and Lily near Voldemort so often. This wouldn’t have happened if Sirius - 

No. Remus stops himself before continuing that thought. This isn’t about him. Nothing is, anymore. 

He continues his stupid speech. 

“James was one of the most generous people with one of the biggest hearts that I've ever met. He never failed to help a friend in need and he put his all into taking care of the people who were important to him. He... he knew he was lucky, materially, and he took advantage of his opportunities to take anyone who needed anything under his wing. I can’t count the number of times that he did things for me that... that _exponentially _changed my life.” 

There's a lump in Remus’ throat that isn’t supposed to be there. He tries to swallow past it but it doesn’t work, and his next words come out strained and scratchy. 

“He was – he was my family. He was the brother I never had, the best friend I never knew was possible to have, the most irritating roommate I've ever had to live with, and... one of the people I felt safe around. There aren’t a lot of people on that list, especially not – not now, not anymore, but he was one of them. Lily was another. We had a little family for a long time. It was us, and Pete, and – well, there were five of us, and then there were six when Harry was born. And it was good.” 

Remus stops talking for a minute. There's a prickling behind his eyes and his voice has gone all thin and it’s not happening at all like he wanted it to. 

In some sort of attempt to stop his stupid eyes from doing whatever this is, he looks out at the guests, scanning over various faces. It's almost bewildering to Remus how many faces that he doesn’t recognize; everyone who knew them personally has gathered as close to the front as possible, but the pews in the little church are completely filled and people are standing at the back in an attempt to be near the people who gave their lives so that Harry could be the Boy Who Lived. 

Remus almost thinks it’s disgusting, that they’re coming to watch this like it’s some sort of spectacle. He should’ve insisted that it was a closed funeral. Friends and family only. But he was scared that he’d forget someone, that people wouldn’t want to come, that because all of their friends are gone that he’d be alone. He'd had a discussion of the arrangements with Petunia one afternoon last week at her house, sitting on the floor with Harry while she’d gone over a checklist, a sort of compilation of things that she’d put together from her parents’ funerals when they’d been in a car accident a few years previously. She'd told him that she would handle all of the physical arrangements if he’d take care of the people aspect. 

He hadn’t particularly liked that he was assigned to that, but he can see why. Petunia's general distaste for everything and everyone in the wizarding community extend to her nephew, his parents, and Remus, even though they’d united for a common reason. 

Her husband had tried to convince her not to come. Remus had shot him a withering look and he’d blustered off. 

Harry had cried when Remus had left. Remus had cried when he got back to his house. His house, his too empty, too quiet, too memory filled house. He'd packed a bag and had gone to stay with his parents until the funeral as soon as he’d managed to pick himself up off of the floor. 

He can’t think about the house. He could barely walk into the bedroom without feeling his heart bottom out, he could barely look at the still unmade side of the bed that wasn’t his, the clothes in the wardrobe that weren’t his, the toothbrush on the sink and the jacket on the chair and the teabag still sitting on the counter – he always left his stupid teabags on the counter, Remus still doesn’t know why, he never made another cup, even though he said he _would_ \- that aren’t _his _without feeling like his breath was sucked completely out of his lungs and he was just collapsing. 

He’s felt like he’s been collapsing for eleven days now. 

Remus has been quiet for a moment. No one seems to be rushing him, but he can’t stand looking at all of them watching him like this. 

“It was good,” Remus repeats, barely managing to get the words out. His breath comes out in a ragged, torn exhale, and he sniffs once before blinking hard and continuing. To his immense relief, his voice comes out more strongly. 

“You know, I've held the belief through this whole process of losing people over and over again over the past few years that grief should be private. Honestly, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me at all. If there was anyone else to do the speaking for two of the most wonderful people I've ever known over the course of my stupidly short life, I would want them to do it instead. Pete would be brilliant. Dorcas would be wonderful. Marlene would make us laugh, even if we didn’t want to. Sirius would –" 

Remus stops himself. 

“Anyway. I don’t think I'm the most fit person for this. Especially for speaking about Lily. I loved her, she was one of my closest friends, but I never thought I would be the person who knew her best. But I'm the only one left and I don’t trust anyone else to do her and James justice, so here I am.” 

He finds Harry in the front row, sitting on someone’s lap – he can’t focus enough to figure out whose lap it is, but he thinks it might be McGonagall – and looks at him for a second before starting the second part of his speech. 

“I met Lily Evans very briefly on the train, just before I met James. She came storming out of the compartment that James had been in. Evidently he’d said something rude to her friend, and she’d gone to find another compartment, and had maintained that he was awful for about six years following that incident. Once I got to know her a few years later, I learned that she was probably one of the most quick-witted, kind-hearted and genuinely funny people I’ve ever known. She sat next to me in Potions during fifth year, which was an act of charity in itself, as that’s been consistently the only subject that I've been truly awful in and haven’t managed to improve at all. But she would help me when I fucked up, which was often.” 

There's a little murmur at Remus’ use of the word _fuck_, but he ignores it. They can get over it. 

“I used to get sick a lot. James knew a lot of the details of what was going on, as he was more than a friend, he was a brother. I didn’t tell Lily about what I was dealing with until a lot later, but she... even before she knew there was something to know about, she noticed. She waited for me to come to her, but she was always there when I needed her. She had a fierce temper, a strong moral code, and an incredible instinct of protectiveness. She taught me how to talk to girls, before any of my friends figured it out, so I seemed like I knew what I was doing and they all came to me for advice.” Remus pauses. “She taught me how to talk to the person I thought I was going to be with forever. Or for however long forever was going to last.” 

Forever lasted much less than Remus had expected it to. He's twenty-one fucking years old, and – no, today isn’t about that. 

“The moral of the story is that I have six N.E.W.T.s and they still taught me everything of importance I know. And I suppose what I'm saying is that you should count yourself lucky if you got to know them. I'm not really a believer in any kind of afterlife but no matter where you think they’ve gone, they’ve left their mark on us, on me particularly, and they’ve left us a legacy in their son, Harry, who I love very much.” 

Remus stops for another moment. He's completely forgotten how he’d planned to finish this. The paper was just filled with vague notes, he’s lost at this point. 

“Just - be good to each other,” he manages, past the lump in his throat that’s come back at the worst moment. “If you take anything from the way James and Lily lived and loved, take that. Thank you.” 

He goes and sits. Harry reaches for Remus and he holds him on his lap for the rest of the service. 

The crowd thins out after the service is over. People shake his hand and tell him he gave a wonderful eulogy but Remus wouldn’t be surprised if they’re just saying that. He rambled a lot. They Floo to someone’s house – for the life of him, Remus can’t remember whose it is, he thinks the Weasleys might have offered their home for the wake – and Remus sits on the sofa and listens but doesn’t comprehend when people tell him their personal stories about James and Lily. 

Someone mentions Sirius accidentally and is immediately hushed as everyone in the room throws worried glances in Remus’ direction. He goes outside for a smoke. 

Remus leans against the big tree in the back garden and watches Harry run around with Molly and Arthur’s kids, one of the older ones swinging Harry around by his ankles as he giggles. Someone comes out and offers Remus a plate of something. He takes it but doesn’t eat any of it. 

There's a commotion when Snape tries to come inside the house. Someone comes and gets him and asks him what to do. Remus doesn’t reply to them, but comes to the front door to see Snape standing on the doorstep and arguing with Arthur, telling him that he just wants to pay his respects. 

“Remus,” Arthur says as he walks up, sounding exasperated but trying to maintain some decorum. 

“Remus,” Snape says. Remus thinks it’s the first time Snape has ever addressed him by his first name. It makes a coil of anger twist around in his stomach. “I just want to pay my respects to Lily.” 

“Why?” Remus asks. He still has his cigarette in his mouth. “She wasn’t your friend.” 

“Yes, she was, I –" 

“And James certainly wasn’t, and this is for him, too.” 

“Remus, I –" 

“Don’t call me by my first name. We're acquaintances, we aren’t close.” Remus reaches forward and hands Snape the still-smoking nub of what’s left of his cigarette before saying to Arthur, “Don’t let him in.” 

“Have a nice day,” Arthur says, and shuts the door in Snape’s face. 

There's dinner. There are stories being told. There's a moment when Harry laughs a certain way and he sounds like James and Remus has to leave the room. There's a half hour where Remus sits on the bathroom floor and cries and doesn’t care that he can hear Molly turning people away from the door because _he needs his space, can’t you understand that? _There's a knock on the door and a surprising turn of events when McGonagall comes and lets herself in and sits on the floor with him and puts her arm around him and lets him just _be_ for another fifteen minutes. 

There's goodbyes, there’s kisses on cheeks and Remus trying not to cry when he hugs Harry because he doesn’t know when the next time he’ll see him is. There's someone driving him home, someone making sure he gets inside, someone putting food in his refrigerator and turning on his lights and giving him a hug before leaving, and then there’s the moment when he’s alone. 

He can’t be alone in this house. He hasn’t been in this house for longer than fifteen minutes since he left after he and Sirius had that fight, before Halloween, before all of this, before his world had imploded. Remus sits on the kitchen floor and looks at the pictures all over the refrigerator: the one Peter took of the other three of them on the school grounds with James and Sirius in the distance and Remus looking back at him, the string of photobooth pictures he’d taken with Sirius at a carnival they’d gone to when they were eighteen and Sirius had surprised him by kissing him suddenly in the last shot, the one of Lily piggybacking on him after a night out with her shoes in her hands, the one of all of them at the wedding, the one of all of them at graduation, the one of him and Sirius looking young and carefree and sickeningly in love that Peter had taken not three months ago. 

He sits on the floor and looks at the pictures and the house is so quiet and so still and so empty in every way but _so_ full of Sirius that Remus feels like he’s being stifled. He looks at every inch of this house and with every heartbeat rushing in his ears the only thing he can think about is about how this place can never be individually his. It was only ever theirs. They found it together, they bought it together, both of their names are on the deed, they made it theirs that first night with Remus’ mouth coaxing achingly delicate sounds out of Sirius that had made his throat warm with pride in himself, in this house, in the two of them. 

It was theirs. It isn’t his without Sirius. Remus can’t be here anymore. 

He stands and after a moment of deliberation, takes the pictures off of the refrigerator and puts them in a shoebox and tucks it under his arm. He turns off the lights and locks the door behind him. 

That's the last time he sees the inside of their house. 


End file.
